


Hope (is a dangerous thing)

by ComposerEgg



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anchors, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possession, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slight Monster!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerEgg/pseuds/ComposerEgg
Summary: Martin's eyes are wide, staring back at the ceaseless watcher. At the two people contained in one body. Fear written across his face, but more than that,acceptance. Because Jonah was right about one thing: Martin would neverdaredeal harm to Jon's body, not while Jon might still be in there. Not without a damn good plan.Ithurts. Agony lancing through his skull, burning the unclosing eyes that are not his, were neverhis. All eyes are Jon's now, butthesewere never ones he wanted in this body.---Jonah attempts to harm Martin, after bodyhopping to possess Jon. He didn't account for Jon's will to keep Martin safe from harm.(He didn't account for just howstrongJon is in this new realm).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 29
Kudos: 308





	Hope (is a dangerous thing)

Jon laughs, pain stabbing through _his_ head as his hands shake around the dagger. The dagger stopped inches from Martin's throat.

Martin's eyes are wide, staring back at the ceaseless watcher. At the two people contained in one body. Fear written across his face, but more than that, _acceptance_. Because Jonah was right about one thing: Martin would never _dare_ deal harm to Jon's body, not while Jon might still be in there. Not without a damn good plan.

It _hurts_. Agony lancing through his skull, burning the unclosing eyes that are not his, were never _his_. All eyes are Jon's now, but _these_ were never ones he wanted in this body.

Another laugh rips its way out of his throat as he drops the weapon, a solid _clang_ resounding as it hits the floor. Jon’s now-freed hands find Martin’s, and he holds them, squeezes them tight.

_I’m here_.

"Did you really _think_ ," he bites out ( _him_ , in charge of his own body once again), "in this hellscape where you crowned me king, that you--or anyone else--would _ever_ be able to harm _my_ Martin, _Jonah_?" Jon _giggles_ , hysteria edging into his tone as he spits the name like bile, like an insult.

The only reply is a boiling frustrating shriek from the back of his--their? No, his--mind as Jonah tries to wrench control back from Jon. But that's not going to work, not this time. Not with Martin here, the slightest flicker of a smile starting to appear. Not with the trust, the _faith_ he's placed with Jon so near.

Jonathan isn’t much of a religious man, even as the end of the world brought about by his own voice rages on. No, religion has never offered him comfort or safety, but he thinks he could make an exception now. As he looks into Martin’s eyes, feels Martin’s skin beneath his own, he can only think: _is this what faith tastes like_? Devotion chosen is a foreign concept. Claws digging into his back and shredding his skin as he’s dragged unwillingly into a god’s service is all he knows.

But every step of the way, Jon _has_ been choosing. If this apocalypse was wrought from his own choices, then so is the devotion etched into his bones, buried in his flesh. Worship has never come easy, but when he thinks of Martin, it flows in him. Love as fundamental as breathing.

Sweaty desperation clings to his skin as he steals a quick kiss from Martin’s lips. He’s here. Solid. _Anchored_.

“J-Jon?” Martin’s voice cracks, rocks embedded in the glass. Not yet shattered, but on its way. And oh how it makes his heart _ache_.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs, voice holding a thousand softer memories. Echoes of time spent curled up in bed together at the safe house as the morning sun shone through the window. Echoes of lunches that _definitely_ weren’t dates. Echoes of fluffy brown cows.

“I can’t hold him back forever,” Jon continues, one hand rising to caress Martin’s cheek. “But I can _promise you_ , no harm will come to you, Martin.” He speaks the name like a prayer, a benediction on his tongue.

(There’s a darker side in him, to this love. Possessiveness thundering in his veins, the word _mine_ repeated again and again, beating in time to his heart. Logically, Martin belongs to no one, standing as his own person, but the monster in Jon has other ideas. It balks at the thought of leaving Martin open for someone--some _thing_ \--else to stake a claim on. This person is _his_ , and he demands that things that are _his_ go untouched. Teeth bared against anything that would try to take what so rightfully belongs to him.)

It’s easier to hide the darkness which craves to be felt with worship than it is to revel in it. Even if that route leads to unspoken guilt resting on his tongue.

“I don’t _care_ if I’m in harm’s way or not! I need _you_ , Jon. I need you with me,” Martin says, _pleas_. A messy concoction of fear and hope and desperation, misery at the thought of separation.

“I can’t promise you that, I’m sorry. And… I’m sorry for what I might have to ask of you, in the future, too.” He leans his head against Martin’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of life flow. It gives him the strength to push on, even as he feels the control slipping away. “Basira is Daisy’s anchor, and remember what she promised Daisy? It’d work.”

“ _No!_ ” Martin flinches back, as though Jon’s words had struck him.

“I know, I know. It’s the only solution we have right now, but--maybe you can find something else. Just--Don’t wait--Too long--I love you--” Jon squeezes Martin tight, leans into his solid weight. Kisses him again, desperate for one last moment, desperate to savor this memory of Martin with him.

And then he stumbles back, setting a good thirty feet between them, as _Jonah_ comes roaring forward. Trapped in his own head once again, steering wheel in someone else’s hands.

Jonah is _laughing_ now, all of Jon’s warmth leeched away by his cold, _cold_ heart. Martin himself turns steely, eyes sharp and almost as cold at Jonah, but he makes no move to reach for a weapon. No move to raise a hand against Jon’s body--yet.

(It’d destroy him. Jon knows that, maybe even _Knows_ it. It’d be the pain of a thousand deaths, and Martin would have to suffer through it _alive_ , while Jon would get the easy escape.)

“My _Archivist_ has quite proven his point, I think,” Jonah says, a smirk playing across Jon’s lips. “I know better than to try that again, so I _suppose_ we’re at a stalemate. I can’t harm you, and you can’t harm me. But _oh_ the pain you’re in right now, it tastes so sweet. Because you _know_ Jon is suffering in here now.”

Martin winces, but makes no further move as Jonah continues to taunt him. “Just _think_ of the pain he’s in. Watching you, unable to do anything. _At my mercy_.”

The words cut deep, Jon is sure of that, but not as deep as the piercing gaze Martin turns back on them. “You haven’t won, Jonah. And just know--”

Jon _feels_ his eyes on him. Martin is looking at _him_ , and a flicker crosses his face, a flame. Burning but without the pain. The opposite of Desolation.

“We’ll find a way to win this and survive, _together_ , Jon.”

He takes on deep breathe, and _smiles_. Speaks one last line, before he turns to regroup with the others. And Jon knows what all the Fears taste like, but hope is a new one. Hope tastes like the relief of ice cream on a hot summer’s day. And it tastes like Martin’s cooking, coming home knowing food is waiting for you.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This hit me over the head last night so I spent an hour writing part of it and then wrote the rest at work. It's been under 9 hours since I started it. I was possessed (but not as much as Jon is in it!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked it pls drop me a comment below, I love feedback!!!
> 
> [For statements about transformative works based on mine and concrit, check out my profile page linked here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerEgg/profile)  
> (summary: I love it all)
> 
> EDIT (2/29/2020): Credit to [Crow @bloominggroves for the art!!!](https://bloominggroves.tumblr.com/post/611246550415540224/) (non-gif version in link!)


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